I was utterly shocked to hear that a 17-year-old schoolboy in China sold one of his kidnies for 20,000 yuan.

The boy confessed (only after his parents started to suspect) that he saw an internet advertisement offering cash for kidney. Somehow the Great Firewall of China, which blocks out even the most innocent words so efficiently, allowed such ads to roam free.

But why did he need the money so desperately? Not to save his parents, or any other real emergencies as you might be thinking.

He bought an iPad 2.

When a 17-year-old believes a tablet is more important than his kidney, it is an alarm that something is seriously wrong with the society.

I know China is highly materialistic these days but this is really too far. If some gadget can drive a teenager to hurt himself like that, then it can probably also cause someone to hurt others. At least the boy kept the damage to himself. No, what about his parents?

Let’s hope he can live well with just one kidney and never has to use the Dialysis Apps.

Not the chocolately dessert. I’m talking about brown-banded cockroaches, disgusting critters that began populating my kitchen about two months ago. These are small cockroaches. The adults are a little bit over 1cm, while the babies can be smaller than a sesame.

They’re very hard to catch because of their superb alertness and agility. One slight movement of your hand is all it takes to send it darting into the nearest gap, even if you’re at a considerable distance. The adult males are an even bigger problem, because they can fly. I should have played more badminton.

The infestation reached a peak in May when there were so many of them that I could easily kill more than a dozen everynight. On the positive side, though, it was a perfect training for hand-eye coordination.

Worse, they had expanded to the living room. Something must be done before they invade our beds.

So we turned the whole kitchen around. We dragged out the refrigerator and sanitized the space behind it. We cleaned every surface, sprayed every gap with insecticide, and poured bleach into every drainage outlet. We also mined the place with roach baits. That quickly reduced their presence to the occasional one adult or two.

I was having lunch with my dad when I noticed this girl sitting by the window. The light brightened her face, which formed a beautiful contrast with the pub’s dim interior. I knew I had spotted a good photo opportunity.

She was sitting at the far end of the room, so I had to exhaust the digital zoom of my camera. As a result the photo is a bit blurry and grainy, but in this case I think it adds to the atmosphere.

I haven’t written anything for a while because I’ve been very busy. Basically, my workload has doubled starting from March, but that’s another story.

I’d written about the appalling behaviour of some of my colleagues in the toilet and, understandably, people would want to avoid any contact with the toilet seat.

But that does NOT mean anyone should squat ON the toilet seat. I know someone has been doing this because I can see the footprint. Worst, people can’t aim when they assume such an awkward posture, and as a result not everything landed at where they’re supposed to land.

I’m not even sure if the toilet bowl is designed to support the full weight of an adult man. I dare not imagine what will happen if it breaks; the pieces are very, very sharp.

Whoever’s been doing this, I hope you slip and plant your foot into whatever you deposited, and sprain your ankle.

This one will begin with two days in Barcelona, where we’ll board the Liberty of the Seas for a five-day cruise in the Mediterranean. After that we’ll spend two days in London and 2.5 days in Paris.

This is mainly to fulfill Dad’s dream of a cruise holiday in the Mediterranean and visiting Europe. Mom refuses to come with us because the mere mention of the word “ship” makes her seasick, and she fears long-distance flight.

Have you ever had dreams which are connected like episodes in a mini-series?

Yesterday, during my afternoon nap, I dreamed of myself being kidnapped in a shopping mall. Turned out my takers were a crime syndicate which kidnap women and sell them for prostitution. I wasn’t cross-dressing in the dream, nor do I have any secret desire to do so in real life, if that’s what you’re thinking. The reason for my involvement was not explained at all. In fact, by the time of writing, these are all I remember about the dream.

The story continued during my slumber last night. This time, me and another male captive managed to escape. How we did this was forgotten, but eventually we were rescued by a police squad conducting a massive raid on the kidnappers’ HQ. Next thing I knew, I was in the police van with several officers. The higher-ranking one, a petit woman resembling a particularly sinister-looking person I knew in university, aroused suspicion about her real identity by mispronouncing “prostitute”. We were then taken back to the same mall to “reconstruct” our capture. Suddenly my “co-captive” pushed me to the floor, saying he saw someone’s head shot to pieces by sniper fire. We hid behind the sofa of a Pacific Coffee outlet, when a not-so-bright waitress came and asked if we want anything. With great exasperation, we convinced her to leave us alone before her action exposes us. Then we moved behind a folding screen. The screen had little square holes on it, so it wasn’t the perfect concealment. Hearing ominous footsteps of someone approaching, I peeked out of the small holes, and the dream ended in a cliffhanger.

It was as intense as watching an episode of 24, and was probably why I woke up this morning with a splitting headache.